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"One Raspberry please" - a one act play, Britannia

This is my fourth post on Britannia, the Irani restaurant at Ballard Estate, Mumbai

I love this mad little place. As do my friends. Some of who make it a point to go there when they return to Mumbai. My wife loves it. Her friends do too. As does just about anyone who enters this mad little overpriced, non air conditioned, with walls with peeling paint, open only in the afternoons, shut on Sundays place.

I was there yesterday with a friend, N, who has just shifted out of Mumbai and misses Britannia.

BK: Are you ready to place your orderUs: yesN: One berry pulao please... (short pause) and a sali botiBK: Very good combination, good order (writes the order down studiously)N: And two Raspberries please (Note: Raspberry is a raspberry flavoured fizzy drink popular with Parsis and served in Parsi weddings)BK: No Raspberry (with the same soft voice)N: But I want Raspberry (She'd apparently been through this drill before)BK: Have a fresh lime soda. Britannia's fresh lime soda is number one (does a thumbs up). Very good. Will go well with your foodN: But I want raspberry... I have come all the way specially for itBK: No raspberry... (short pause, then whispers conspiratorially)... If I give you raspberry, it will get over... then some Parsis will come and ask for it and I won't be able to serve itThe Knife: But I am married to a Parsi ... that makes me half Parsi?BK: (still very genial) No half Parsi, no quarter Parsi, no conversion, no raspberryN: But I am staying with a Parsi friend ... I love raspberryThis called for desperate measures. I fished out a print out of my last post on BritanniaThe Knife: I am a big fan of your restaurant. This is an article I wrote about it when I came here last time. My wife and I heard that you were closing and we had rushed here. We were so happy to hear that you weren't closing downBK: Aah I remember... can I keep?The Knife: Of course. This is for you. In fact my wife could not come today and asked me to pack cutlets for herBK: That won't do... you must ask her to come hereBK still looked unconvinced. No sign of the blessed Raspberry. That's when I suddenly had a flash of inspirationThe Knife: I even made sali per eendu (a Parsi breakfast dish) myself for breakfast today (this was true)BK: (breaks into a BIG smile and nods) Sali Per Eendu... (looks at N) hmmm he is ParsiN: (taking advantage of the situation) Can we pleaaaase have a RaspberryBK: (turns towards one of the waiters) Manish, two raspberries BK: (looks at me) ... you are a very good boyBK: (looks at N) and you are a veryyyy good girlN tried her luck and got one more raspberry from BK, a photo with him, and a story about how BK asked two American guests a couple of years back to ask Mr Bush to stop fighting... but as he said, Mr Bush didn't stop till they finally threw a shoe at him.

Note: I have a strong feeling that you can't pack Mr Kohinoor and take him home

It was a Saptami evening and we were meeting at a friend's place with a bottle of Royal Stag. The venue was his terrace and the POA was to get a little high before we head out to Tengra (which, kind of sums what you did during Pujos in Cal).

A non-drinker friend was entrusted with the task of procuring soda. After all, we had just started working and was slowly graduating from drinking whiskey with water to having it with soda.

My friend's parents were conveniently not at home and we were definitely living it up. So we poured our first drinks, added a dash of soda, a few ice cubes and gently took in the neon-lit Calcutta sky as the strains of the barowari loudspeakers playing shanai reached our ears. All was well with life.

Except the whiskey tasted really funny. The alarm was first raised by a friend (a seasoned drinker) who promptly inspected the whiskey bottle suspecting pilferage. (He had a history of polishing off whiskey from his father's stock and refilling it water to avoid getting caught. According to him, his father starting believing that the government was responsible for diluting his tipple and stopped voting for the Left Front!)

Anyway, on close examination, he reached the conclusion that the whiskey was ok. Now it was the turn of the soda.

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